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Showing posts from June, 2013

Contrast

Oh, London. One day you amaze me with the beauty of your residents (see last post ). The next day you remind me of why I can fear such residents. In great contrast to my Friday morning, my Sunday morning started off with a horrible interaction with a Londoner (with a German accent, but let's call him a Londoner for the sake of convenient comparison). I live on Brixton Hill down the street from The Fridge Bar. Now when I was 16 or 17 I used to go to the Fridge and Dogstarr and other Brixton haunts on weekend escapes from boarding school. Although Brixton was dodgier 12 years ago (yes, I just gave away my age) I remember the bars as amazing, but either my drunken memory fails me or they really were amazing and times have since changed. I think the Fridge has actually been shut down a few times since then, but it's like a cat with nine lives. Anyway, this place is open from 4am to 11am on weekend nights, which is basically a direct invitation for anyone high on blow and molly to c

The Loveliest Londoner

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It's amazing how a day can seem so hopeless and then turn out beautifully. My plan was to audition at The Albany Theatre in Deptford this morning then to go to work in Wimbledon. I woke up to find that I hadn't been paid. Therefore, no money in my account and only £2 on the ole oyster travelcard. The life of a starving actress is a precarious one and I find myself walking that tightrope often. Cue me frantically calling a family member for help. He thought perhaps I could go to the station and use his card over the phone. The Underground staff at Brixton were no help, but they said that the train station could do it. I went to the train station. They don't do oyster top-ups. One word: SCREWED. The man in the booth at Brixton train station started trying to brainstorm with me, asking me if I knew anyone nearby. Of course all my friends in the area are at work. I was resigned to the fact that I was going to have to cancel the audition and work for the day, therefore missin